


A Stroke of Luck

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Yang do it in one of the lockers of the armory because they can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stroke of Luck

The Emerald Forest did not stay clear for very long. Months into their second semester, Team RWBY, along with several of the other teams in their year, were called back in for “cleaning duty.” Part of being a student at Beacon entailed regular combat training with live prey, and each class took turns keeping the Grimm population outside the city under control.  
  
As time progressed and their mastery over their craft became more refined, their extended hunting trips started growing longer and longer. Each one could last for days at a time; to everyone’s relief, their most recent trip into the forest didn’t last more than a day and a half. Still, by the time Team RWBY returned home, there was nothing Yang wanted more than a hot shower and a real bed.  _Her_  bed, and deep honest-to-goodness REM sleep, not a few restless winks caught in the shade of a tree while her partners stood guard. And preferably with Blake tucked into her arms.  
  
Shelving Ember Celica away and slamming her locker door shut, she started flexing her aching wrists, idly crackling her knuckles as she glanced around at her classmates. JNPR and BLST idled nearby, but due to their lockers being sorted alphabetically by last name, she couldn’t see if Blake had taken off yet. Walking further down, she grinned when she rounded the corner and spotted her. Fully intent on sneaking up on her to jam her fingers in the soft spot just underneath her lowest ribs to tickle her, Yang froze when she spotted something out of the norm.  
  
Blake’s binding had come loose. 

Little tufts of black fur stuck out of the left half of her bow. To anyone out of the loop, it might look like just a bad hair day, but Yang knew better. She’d been Blake’s partner (and her girlfriend) long enough to be privy to her secret. She knew her intense desire to keep it under wraps— so to speak. Normally Blake took great pains to keep her ears bound, but the poor girl looked drained, posture slumped and feet dragging, too exhausted to give her binding a thorough check-up.  
  
Striding over as quick as she could, Yang gripped Blake’s elbow insistently, hissing, “Blake, your  _ears_.”  
  
Pulling a confused face, Blake’s eyes eventually widened in comprehension. Backing against her locker, she pulled Yang to stand in front of her, using her large size as a shield from any wandering eyes. “How bad?” She started squeezing her bow with both hands. “Which—?” Finding the breach, she cut herself short with a disappointed hum.  
  
"It’s not super bad," Yang reassured her, quickly planting a kiss on her forehead. "I’ll stand guard, you fix the thing. You can do that, right?"  
  
Not answering, Blake fiddled with her ears as Yang looked over her shoulder, glad to see the armory emptying out. When she looked back, though, Blake’s ear had sprung completely free, and it didn’t look as though it was going to get any less obvious.  
  
"Oh for the love of— Blake, open your locker. Do it," she insisted when Blake twitched her head to the side in a silent question. Her faunus ear flicked as well, which would have been adorable if it weren’t exactly the sort of thing that they were trying to avoid.   
  
Keying in her code on the electronic pad with one hand and cupping her errant ear with the other, Blake mumbled, “I think I might have a mirror in—”   
  
Before she finished, Yang placed her palm on the center of Blake’s back, directly between her shoulder blades, and  _shoved_.  
  
Squishing herself inside the locker— which was just big enough to accommodate the two of them— Yang shut it behind them, plunging them into complete darkness. “ _Yang!”_  Blake said in a whisper-shout, clutching onto the lapels of Yang’s leather jacket and tugging. “What are you doing? What if someone saw?”  
  
"I hope someone did," Yang said, reaching out to cup Blake’s ear in her hand, rolling the tender flaps between her fingers. "That way no one will believe us if we say we were doing anything other than hooking up in here— up to and including doing damage control on your secret faunus ears nobody is supposed to know about."  
  
Blake remained quiet; Yang took that as confirmation. Gently peeling her bow off her ears, Yang massaged them for a minute, knowing they had been pinned down for much longer than usual and must be sore. Once Blake’s chest began it’s deep, familiar rumble, Yang giggled and kissed her nose. “Feel better?” she asked, and felt rather than saw Blake nod in the darkness.  
  
Better enough to bind them up again, at least. Yang tried to help, but Blake quickly slapped her hand away. “I’ll do it,” she said. “It’ll be easier now that I’m not in a rush. Besides, you can’t even see what you’re doing.”  
  
Resigning herself to the facts, Yang kept her arms safely tucked around Blake’s waist, trying to minimize the amount of space they took up. It was cramped in there— perfect for students with oversized weapons, bad for the students themselves. As always, she was surprised by Blake’s solidness, how dense she felt under her clothes. Light-footed, and a full head shorter than her, Blake didn’t seem like she’d be very well built. But Yang wouldn’t have been surprised if they weighed the same.  
  
"Done," Blake said after a few minutes. "…Thanks."  
  
"No problem," Yang said, planting another kiss on her forehead. Getting up on the tips of her toes, Blake tugged at her jacket again, demandingly this time. Rolling her eyes even though Blake couldn’t see them, Yang indulged her, pressing her against the locker wall with a lingering kiss. When Blake tried to stop, though, moving to open the door, Yang protested, keeping her still with a petulant " _no_.”  
  
"I— I’m sorry?" Blake said, laughing haltingly. Yang held her wrists tight, not letting her escape. "Come on, we aren’t really going to hook up in here, are we?"  
  
Shaking her head no, Yang explained herself. “But anyone watching will think we hooked up. And who the hell hooks up in like three minutes?” Pausing just long enough to give Blake time to answer, Yang decided to answer herself. “No one, that’s who.”  
  
"You’re taking this charade a little too seriously, Yang."  
  
"I’m just saying, it takes you longer than five minutes to come." She thought about it. "Like, a lot longer."  
  
Blake’s skin warmed underneath her hands. “Well, no one else should be aware of that!” she said, jabbing a finger into Yang’s ribs. “Unless you’re being a big blabber mouth?”  
  
"Ow!" Yang squirmed in the cramped confines of the locker, frowning deeply. "No, of course not. But nobody comes that quick. It’s like, impossible. Unless you’re like a one-pump chump." Gripping Blake’s forearms in sudden concern, she stressed the point. "Wait, that’s even worse! Now we  _have_  to stay in here. I can’t have anyone thinking we’re one-pump chumps, Blake!”  
  
"Yang, Jesus Christ."  
  
This needed extra calculating. “Okay, so we can’t stay in here too long, because then it’s just weird, but we can’t get out too early because it’s not realistic.”

  
Blake leaned forward, planting her face directly in Yang’s chest. If her partner wasn’t going to let her leave, she might as well make the most of it. “I think no one cares and the locker room is empty already,” she said, nipping at the hint of cleavage there with her sharp teeth. “And if you’re so set on realism, why aren’t we just.. you know… doing it?”  
  
"Because," Yang started off, sounding as though she actually had a valid argument prepared. But by then, Blake was undoing her jacket, gently sliding it off her shoulders. "Because…" she petered out, twirling a strand of Blake’s long hair around one finger as the faunus kept going, pushing her shirt up to expose her bra. "…Oh," she murmured, tightening her grip on Blake when she felt her teeth prick just sharp enough to feel through the fabric.  
  
"Honestly," Blake chided her, somehow wriggling one knee between the blonde’s, using Yang’s thigh to slowly grind against. "You are too much, sometimes."

Clicking her tongue against the side of her mouth in an exaggerated mimicry of flirting, Yang surprised Blake into squeaking when she clapped both hands on her ass, squeezing hard. “That’s what  _she_  sa—”  
  
Blake bit her chest, hard. She definitely felt that one. “Don’t.”  
  
Feeling around in the dark, Blake twisted her fingers under the elastic band of Yang’s sports bra, hitching it up to rest on top of her breasts. Yang didn’t care much for her chest, other than as a general ornament, but when they were in Blake’s hands it was a different story entirely. Humming with a consistent, low purr, Blake grazed her lips along one till she reached its peak, catching it between her teeth. Gentler now than she had been before, she was still far from being docile. Her hands seemed to come from everywhere, knuckles running along Yang’s stomach before darting down and turning to grab her hip, nails digging into the yielding flesh.   
  
The flat, firm muscles of Blake’s thigh felt fantastic between Yang’s legs as she pressed and pushed, the tight confines of the locker getting very humid, very quickly. Feeling a little suffocated, but not enough to want to leave, Yang brushed her fingertips against the base of Blake’s faunus ears, safely tucked away. She was rewarded with a heavy groan and a lot of squirming.

Butting her forehead affectionately on any part of Yang she could reach, Blake complained, “Don’t undo the binding, I just finished it…” Anything else was cut off with a happy sigh. Not pulling them free, Yang could still grope around the sensitive base.  
  
"That’s so unfair," she teased, "I’m all on display here, you know."  
  
Not giving any indication that she was listening, Blake scored her nails down Yang’s midriff, down her waist until they stroked along the crease where Yang’s thigh met her vulva. Yang’s hips twitched forward, eager for her to make contact, and Blake didn’t keep her waiting. Blake’s hand slipped past the waist band of her shorts, fingers splaying her open and teasingly rubbing at her entrance. “Not  _there_ ,” Yang growled, gripping onto Blake’s ears with both hands when she wouldn’t listen. Thrusting her fingers inside in shallow, gentle movements, the faunus built up the pressure at a slow pace. Blake knew very well that penetration did next to nothing for her until she already had an orgasm.   
  
Rolling her hips to try and get Blake to touch her at the right angle, to focus on her clit, Yang couldn’t help but bitterly notice that Blake was having no such trouble getting what she wanted. Kissing along Yang’s sternum, Blake would occasionally turn her head to lip at the sides of Yang’s breasts, her purring intensifying. 

"You smell good," she whispered, voice strained. "Like gunpowder." Her fingers trailed upwards along Yang’s slit, making her whimper when she brushed against her clit, softly. She did it again, and again, adding more pressure each time. "Burnt oaks."

  
"Oh. That’s… that’s good?" Yang managed to squeeze out. The acrid stench of spent shotgun shells wasn’t her idea of an alluring scent, but hey, who was she to judge? ”Oaks, h-huh?”  
  
She ducked her head down to rest on Yang’s shoulder, kissing it with no aim or rhythm. “Mhmm.”   
  
Her tongue rasped on Yang’s neck, rough enough to leave a mark. Like a cat’s, of course. Yang squirmed in her hands, stopped rubbing her ears long enough to grip the sides of her face and pull her into a kiss, refusing to let her go even as she gasped and mumbled into her mouth. The locker was blisteringly hot at this point, small sparks of flame striking up and dancing over Yang’s bare arms like lightning bolts. Along her back, down her thighs.  
  
Far from being intimidated by the effect of Yang’s aura, Blake seemed amused. Her laugh was a hard thing to come by, a rare, low treat. Like bittersweet chocolate. “Are you all right?” she asked, focusing all her attention on Yang’s clit. “You don’t usually… glow this much.”  
  
"I’m… I’m not sure," she groaned, twisting her hands into Blake’s clothing now. "But I’m gonna come if you keep that up."  
  
"Oh," she said, very seriously. "Then I guess we should stop."  
  
Yang nipped at her, warningly. Blake did the same in retaliation, but she was done playing nice with her fangs, growling as they threatened to punch through tough, calloused skin. There wasn’t enough room in the locker to fight for dominance, or else Yang certainly would have won— or at least, that’s what she told herself as she let Blake fuck her into the wall, hips jerking forward to meet every stroke of her hands until she came, muffling her shaking cries against Blake’s shoulder.  
  
When they finally scooted out of the locker fifteen minutes later, red-faced and covered in hickies, they found the armory completely empty. “Well,” Yang muttered, glancing around guiltily and tightening her scarf around her neck as though it might hide anything. It certainly didn’t do much for the marks on her cleavage. “On a scale of one to ten, I’d rate that as ‘unexpectedly brilliant’.”  
  
Blake wiped a smudge of ash off her cheek. “You know we can’t do that again, right?”  
  
"Well, not in that same locker…"  
  
Turning red, Blake punched her arm a little too hard, stiffly stalking off. Yang trailed along behind her, laughing her head off.

 

 

 


End file.
